Before Ronan can reach the door, Emerson’s groggy voice comes from the other side of Berkley. “Fuck off, the both of you.” He groans and drags his hand down his face. “Let me get up and help with something.”
He sits up slowly, blinking blearily, and looks from Berk’s sleeping form to me. Then he smirks, a smirk that makes me want to throw a pillow at his head.
“She sleep, okay?” he asks, his voice still hoarse with slumber.
“Yeah,” I answer quietly. My hand is still hovering above her hip, caught between guilt and reverence. “She didn’t stir until I tried to move.”
Em’s smirk widens, and I can see the flicker of amusement he’s trying to hide. “Well,” he says casually, stretching his arms above his head, “sounds like you’ll just have to stay there, then. Wouldn’t want her waking up too early and being tired, right?”
Ronan laughs from the doorway, the sound low and smug. “He’s got a point.”
The assholes. They know exactly what they’re doing, pinning me here with her, forcing me to stop running from the comfort I don’t think I deserve.
I glare at both of them, but my voice gives me away when I grunt, “Fine.”
The door clicks shut behind them, leaving the room quiet again. I exhale slowly and let my hand settle against her hip, finally allowing myself to relax into the heat of her body. She sighs softly, nestling closer, and for the first time in a long damn while, I let myself believe I might be allowed to stay.
I must have fallen back asleep, because when I wake again, the light has shifted—soft gold cutting through the blinds and stretching across the bed. The air feels warm and quiet—the kind that hums rather than rests. For a second, I’m not sure what pulled me awake, and then she moves.
Berkley stretches like something wild and content, the motion slow, graceful, indulgent. A sound slips from her throat, small and soft, more feline than human—a sleepy mewl that hits me straight in the gut. Her body arches back against mine, and before I can think, I’m reacting. My muscles lock, my breath catches, andevery buried feeling I’ve been trying to suffocate claws its way to the surface.
When she settles again, I can’t help myself. I lean forward, pressing my lips to her bare shoulder. Her skin is warm, still carrying that faint scent of smoke and soap that is just so damn her. The kiss is a risk, one I haven’t earned, but for a heartbeat, I’m selfish enough to take it.
“Good morning to you too, baby,” I murmur against her skin, my voice rough with sleep and nerves.
She jolts, the smallest flinch that steals my breath, but then she exhales. I feel it more than hear it, a soft surrender that melts back into me. She doesn’t pull away. She fits against me like she never left. That one small action undoes me.
The voice in my head starts its war again—logic, guilt, memory—all of them shouting that I shouldn’t touch her, that I don’t deserve to. But my heart doesn’t listen. It beats against my ribs like it’s trying to claw its way closer to her. I’m caught between the two, paralyzed in the wreckage of wanting what I should never have again.
Then she speaks—her voice a whisper that cuts through the noise and silences the room. “You stayed.”
She says it as if it’s a surprise. Like she didn’t think I would.
My throat tightens. I force the words out before I can stop them. “Didn’t plan to,” I admit, because I can’t lie to her. “Couldn’t make myself leave.”
She shifts just enough that her hair brushes against my cheek, her scent surrounding me like a memory that’s been waitingfor this exact moment. “Good,” she breathes, the word barely more than a sigh. She presses back again, her hips brushing mine, and the sound that escapes both of us is quiet but charged, alive. “Because I didn’t want you to.”
That does it. Her words cut past the guilt, past the fear, straight through the wreckage I’ve left behind. They sink into the part of me that’s still raw for her, still reaching—and the burn is unmistakable, like a brand set deep.
My hand moves before my brain catches up, slipping over her hip until my fingers splay across her stomach. Her skin is warm, soft, alive beneath my touch, and I swear I feel her heartbeat through it. I pull her a little closer, needing the weight of her against me, needing proof that she’s real and here and that somehow, she hasn’t vanished again.
My face finds its way to her neck without thought. The scent wraps around me—something sweet and faintly smoky, like fire clinging to honey. I breathe her in, slow and deep, until the air itself feels thick enough to choke me. The sound that rumbles from my throat surprises us both. It’s low, guttural, nothing civilized. I try to swallow it back, but it breaks free anyway, a quiet growl that vibrates against her skin.
She stirs at the sound, shifting until she can face me. Her eyes open, still heavy with sleep but brighter than I’ve seen in years. The sight of her like this—unguarded, soft, dangerous in her quiet—undoes me completely.
Her hand lifts, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing my jaw before she slides them around the back of my neck. She holds methere for a second, studying me with those steady eyes. I can see the hesitation flicker across her face, the war between caution and want. Maybe she’s afraid of being rejected. Maybe she’s afraid of breaking me. I’m not sure which of us she’s protecting.
Then she pulls me down.
The first brush of her lips is tentative, like she’s testing the ground before taking a step. My heart stumbles. I can’t stop my hand from tightening at her waist, my thumb tracing lazy circles into her skin as I kiss her back. Her mouth parts against mine, soft and slow, and the world tilts with it. There’s no rush, no desperation. Just warmth building between us, a steady rise of something that feels older than our mistakes.
Her fingers slide into my hair, tugging just enough to drag a groan out of me. I press closer, deepening the kiss, gliding my tongue gently with hers—every touch a promise not to run, not to hurt, not this time.
She tastes of sleep and redemption, like forgiveness I don’t deserve but crave. When she sighs into my mouth, the sound slips straight into my chest and roots itself in my heart.
We move together, unhurried touches. My hand finds the small of her back; hers traces the lines of my shoulder. Every point of contact hums. The tension between us—years of silence, pain, wanting—bleeds into the space until it feels alive, electric.
When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests against mine. We stay like that, breathing each other in, the quiet stretching and softening around us.